


Cat among the pigeons

by Minne_My



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 1998)
Genre: Boarding School, Magic, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25913017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minne_My/pseuds/Minne_My
Summary: How Imogen Drill came to work at Cackle's Academy
Kudos: 6





	Cat among the pigeons

A private boarding school. Well, yes it was, she supposed. She let Serge think what he wanted but there really was no way of explaining what Cackle's was. She could hardly believe she'd even got the job. She was aware that not everyone thought her presence was necessary. Miss Hardbroom's idea of getting outside for fresh air and exercise was to gather plants and herbs rather than a brisk walk before breakfast. She was appalled that the headmistress would even think of hiring a non-magical but Amelia Cackle had a knack of choosing which traditions to firmly uphold and when to let the chink of modernity to settle among the rafters. Imogen was one decision that was not welcomed by the acidulous deputy head but Amelia had won her round, a feat that persuaded Imogen that magic really did exist.

She couldn't see it at first. Overblow Castle was shrouded in the wreck and ruin of stones, as intended. Only when Constance had summoned up the powers that be, to sear purple behind her eyes with an invisible heat, did she step into a different world. Once her eyesight cleared and her eyelids stopped tingling, she saw the magic at work. It was a gloomy old-fashioned wreck but Imogen thrived on challenge. Even Miss Hardbroom's constant glowering didn't deter her. It was surrounded by Mistletoe Wood, a place that Imogen got to know with every winding path and copse, like the back of her hand. She'd never worked in a place with such free-range freedom. Mrs Cosie's tea shop was an added bonus because there were times when you just needed a cream cake or two. Every so often Imogen envied her friends and family in another county, going out for dinner on the weekdays, blissfully ignorant of cauldrons and enchanted paintings and that grating gasbag Hellibore but then she loved her job too much. In each school and sports centre there was always the task of coaxing reluctant kids to get hiking and competing and Imogen relished the challenge.

Her biggest challenge however, was to stand her ground against Constance Hardbroom, the scourge of the school. She had eyes and ears attuned to most of the comings and goings and Imogen never failed to jump when the woman materialised out of thin air and back again. Sneaky. It had taken a long time before the ice between them had thawed just a bit for them to be on civil terms. Once they'd let their tempers fly however, their dance around formality had ceased and it became a game of alternate hostility and grudging respect. Constance was formidable, one of the most exasperating and stubborn creatures Imogen had ever come across, a most worthy opponent and not easily outwitted. They had learned to live alongside each other for the most part.

Imogen gazed out at the window, into the pouring rain and sighed happily. It was certainly a world away from the leafy North West London suburbs she grew up in but then she was adept at making her home where she kept her bicycle and after the first year, Cackle's felt friendly and comfortable. She'd never truly get used to the magic that was terrifyingly present in all aspects of life in the castle or understand the rigid traditions that witchcraft required (why didn't they learn to drive cars instead of hopping on brooms) but she was being paid well for her silence on the matter. She'd almost missed her chance when the nondescript headmistress had visited Moss Hall Sports Centre that particular day, surreptitiously observing the staff to see if any of them would fit in with her school. Imogen had declined at first, favouring the position at a school nearby but when the salary was mentioned, she wondered just how select this boarding school was. In the end she had weighed up her options and thought about the space in the countryside and the freedom to create her own schedule and it seemed like an opportunity she couldn't pass up.

Imogen Drill was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, after all.


End file.
